short stories

My New Neighbors

Greetings, Penelope. Thank you for meeting me on such short notice.

No problem, Ranger. How can I help?

I'd just like you to answer a few questions about the dela Rosasteins if you don't mind.

Oh sure! What would you like to know?

What do you remember about the first time you met them?

They looked...normal. Completely normal people. The dela Rosasteins looked like a nice, sweet family. Twin sisters, younger brother, a golden retriever. The dad worked an office job and the mom worked in the family restaurant. I could just tell she owned her husbands' behind.

Which was a horrible sign, because no one in Riverbend Valley was normal.

In this small Montanna town, everyone knew everyone else's secrets, and everyone was a little off-kilter. Theories ranged from 'everyone has a birth defect due to the runoff from the mine on the other side of the mountain!' to 'God has touched all of us and gifted us extraordinary talents.' to even 'we're all high, all the time, and we just hallucinate everything...' Take your pick. I personally think that the 'we're all high, all the time' theory takes the cake.

Mr. Marley, the town baker, could bake his loaves of bread just by looking at them. The town mechanic, Mr. Marleys' daughter, could squeeze herself inside cars - their engines, their hoods, anywhere - and personally remove the blockage. And their grandmother, Madame Marley, could make flowers bloom, any time of the year, by asking them to.

And it wasn't just the Marleys, mind you. There were the Chis, who had talents ranging from floaty jumps to the ability to hold their breath for ten minutes, to be able to change hair color at will.

There were really only six families in Riverbend Valley - the Chis, the Marleys, the Hoppers, the Kroshes, and my family, the Verittos. And now, the dela Rosasteins. Six families.

At this point, it's a miracle we're still a town. We have a population of around 70 people. I think we don't even need to pay taxes anymore.

The only thing still keeping Riverbend Valley going was the fact that the head of the Kroshe family, William Kroshe, worked for the Bank of America. Thus, we received banking funds every other month.

Other places in our fine town include the gas station, complete with 7-Eleven, the Dip'n'Dine Sundae Bar, the rundown Mcdonalds, a stationery store, and a preschool, Sunnytime Daycare. We all took the bus forty-five minutes to the nearest elementary/middle/high school, some fifty miles away.

So all that being said, a new family moving here was huge, like the biggest event to shake Riverbend Valley since the Hopper/Chi affair in 1934.

Why am I telling you all this? Well, first because you asked, Deputy Park Ranger Smithers. But the second reason is that what happened was so strange, I could hardly believe it myself.

I tasked myself with welcoming the dela Rosasteins to the neighborhood. I walked to their front door, armed with a casserole and an award-winning smile.

But before I could knock, the door flew off its hinges. I ducked instinctively and used the steel casserole tin to shield my head. When I heard the thud of it landing, I stood up and smoothed my tee-shirt, unfazed. Sure, it was surprising, because I didn't think they were talented, but hey. This morning my mother made a casserole with my dead grandmother, who was in charge of peeling the potatoes, so-

One of the girls, Missy dela Rosastein, rushed to the door.

"I'm so sorry about the door! I, um, we-" I internally giggled and handed her the casserole.